


prometheus

by blackmaggiecat



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, mentions of mythology, stella attempts rellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:32:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6849028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmaggiecat/pseuds/blackmaggiecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"what was your favorite story?" raven asked, her eyes glinting, before placing a hand on his shoulder in faux-seriousness, "let me guess, you liked the love stories."</p><p>"not really," bellamy replied, staring at the fire but not really seeing it, "i always got caught up in the story of prometheus."</p>
            </blockquote>





	prometheus

The battle of Mount Weather was won. The war against A.L.I.E. was won. They were done fighting. Everyone should be happy.

 

They weren't.

 

Well, some of them were. The children were too young to really know what had happened, the adults trying their best to retain the innocence of the only truly pure thing left on the ground. The grounders might be happy, but they might also be plotting everyone's deaths. You could never quite tell.

 

At the very least, Bellamy was not happy. His hands, dipped in blood before the mountain, coated in it before A.L.I.E., were now dripping in grounder blood, in mountain blood, in the blood of Lincoln and in his own blood, beaten out of him by someone he loved. Whenever he looked into the eyes of another member of Skaikru, he saw Lincoln. Whenever he looked at Jasper, he saw Maya. Whenever he looked at Clarke, he saw a mountain at his feet, saw people who were just innocent enough dying from the inside out.

 

His penance, he thought. For those he had killed. Every time he saw something good, he thought of people who could have been better. If he'd let them. If he'd spared them.

 

He would never know.

 

* * *

 

 

Step, drag. Step, drag.

 

Her brace was broken. Wick had told her it would break, before. It had broken, but that was after an explosion. She fixed it, like she always did. Everyone said it would break again, but she was cocky. She hadn't listened.

 

Step, drag, wince. Wince, pause, step, wince, drag.

 

Every step hurt. Every move was painful. She couldn't let them know though. Abby wanted to operate. Raven said no.

 

Step, wince, drag, wince, stop to lean against the side of the Ark.

 

Raven was a fighter. She could do this. This was a small price to pay for the life she led, full of love, full of adventure, full of making things go  _boom._

 

Stand up, step, drag.

 

* * *

 

 

She had started to read. Abby, after returning from being chipped, had decided that Raven had already done too much to her leg, and had confined her to mostly stationary work once again.

 

Raven had argued. She had screamed. She had fought like hell.

 

She had failed. She always failed. 

 

Now, she was trying boycotting. She had spent days doing, admittedly, mostly stationary activities, because it hurt to move. She had spent hours pouring over the books left on the Ark. At first, it was manuals, but even a highly devoted mechanic could only re-read manuals for so long. So she started on the older texts, with their covers hanging on by threads and their words sometimes faded to the point of being unreadable.

 

They looked like challenges. Raven loved a challenge.

 

Instead of a challenge, she found stories. She found boys who never grew up, and girls who just wanted to. She found men with the power of gods, and gods with the weaknesses of men.

 

 _This is it,_ Raven thought,  _this is the work that has survived the test of time._

 

Raven wanted to make something this magnificent someday.

 

* * *

 

 

She was reading a book of mythology when Bellamy found her.

 

He wasn't quite sure if he had been looking for her. He had been wandering, and he hadn't seen her, but now he'd found her and he sort of felt relieved, so he supposes he was looking for her.

 

She had a fire going in front of her, which struck him as odd. She was a mechanic, after all; you'd think she'd use the dusk to show off some flashlight of her own creation. But instead, she had a thick volume in her lap, eyes squinting against the less-than-fantastic lighting.

 

 

She looked up at him, her eyes slightly glazed, mouth slightly smiling. "Bellamy," she stated simply, and she wasn't sure if she meant to start a conversation of simply acknowledge his existence.

 

"Raven," he replied, sitting down next to her, and she was sort of glad for the conversational tone as he looked her over, "you look well."

 

She smirked. Was that the best attempt at conversation he could do? "You sort of look like shit."

 

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. "I sort of feel like shit."

 

She smiled, "Don't we all."

 

There was silence for a second, and then Bellamy asked "What're you reading?" 

 

She furrowed her brow. "I'm not quite sure of the title, actually." she confided, picking it up to show him the worn cover, which no longer said anything except "MYTHS AND LEGENDS" in permanent marker.

 

Bellamy's eyes brightened, and that was enough to get Raven smiling right there. "You a mythology buff, Blake?" she asked teasingly.

 

"Something like that," he responded, smiling back.

 

"What was your favorite story?" raven asked, her eyes glinting, before placing a hand on his shoulder in faux-seriousness, "let me guess, you liked the love stories."

 

"Not really," Bellamy replied, suddenly serious, staring at the fire but not really seeing it, "I always got caught up in the story of Prometheus."

 

Raven furrowed her brows for a second, before her eyes brightened in recognition. "The titan!"

 

"Yeah, the titan," Bellamy reiterated, "he tricked the gods, and then brought fire to humanity, and was sentenced to spend the rest of eternity getting his liver eaten every day by eagles."

 

Raven nodded, slowly. "Poor guy."

 

Bellamy laughed mirthlessly, "You could argue that."

 

Raven looked taken aback, a new look on her. "What makes you think it could be argued otherwise?"

 

Bellamy gnawed at his lower lip for a second, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into concrete sentences. 

 

"He's being punished," Bellamy said, slowly, "he did something wrong, and now he's paying for it."

 

Raven cocked her head. "Are you saying he deserves it?"

 

"Maybe," Bellamy responded, finally looking away from the flames and back to her bewildered face. 

 

"He gave humanity fire!" she pointed out, "He did something good for them. And for that, he has to spend eternity in agony?"

 

"He shouldn't have done it," Bellamy told her, staring at her intently.

 

"He thought he was doing what was right," Raven argued, "he was trying to help people."

 

"He still knew that he shouldn't, though," Bellamy sighed, dipping his head, "he knew that he shouldn't, but he did, and now he has to pay the price." And they both sort of knew that he wasn't really talking about a Greek titan anymore.

 

"No one should have to suffer forever," Raven whispered, unconsciously fiddling with her broken brace, and they knew she wasn't talking about the myth either.

 

There was silence for a beat, Bellamy looked at hands coated in ghosts and blood, Raven fiddling with a broken brace, for a painful, useless leg. Each of their personal eagles and livers.

 

"He doesn't deserve to suffer forever," Raven murmured decisively, looking over to him, "no one deserves that."

 

"Maybe he didn't, before," Bellamy remarked, "but he earned his time."

 

"No, Bellamy, no one deserves this," she said, and he looked up, surprised that she had broken their charade, "not even us."

 

"Maybe-"

 

She reached over and grabbed his face, holding in between her hands and forcing him to look at her. "Bellamy, maybe Prometheus only owes so much to the Gods."

 

He licked his lips, really looking at the girl in front of him for the first time during the conversation. He saw the pain in her stance, the frustration in her eyes. 

 

"Maybe you're right," he said, and leaned down to capture her lips with his.

 

There was no heat or passion in the action, no fire. There was pain, and longing, and something that might have once been regret.

 

Raven handled Bellamy gently, knowing how far gone he was, knowing how broken and bloody and bruised. She knew he would keep torturing himself long after his eagles were gone, never really believing he had paid his penance.

 

Bellamy was almost cautious, though neither quite knew why. Raven was not a person you could break. She was fiery and snarky, if a little bit cracked. If you were to break her, you would only create sharp pieces that would rip you skin to shreds.

 

In that moment, neither of them paid for anything.

 

* * *

 

 

The easiest thing to forget about the tale of Prometheus is the ending. Because, in the end, Hercules frees him. He doesn't have to suffer.

 

Neither Bellamy nor Raven really knew who was Prometheus, or who was Hercules, or whether the eagles still came for them in the mornings. It was unimportant.

 

All that matter was that in the end, Prometheus is saved.


End file.
